


And I'll Call You by Mine

by visionsofcharmiee



Category: Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Boys In Love, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Love, M/M, Possible Mpreg, Romance, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 15:44:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18702604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visionsofcharmiee/pseuds/visionsofcharmiee
Summary: Summer, 1983. Somewhere in Northern Italy...The summer that would change everything.Spending six weeks in the company of a young American scholar named Oliver, 17 year old Elio Perlman hadn't exactly expected to find himself falling head over heels in love with the blonde haired, blue eyed 24 year old.Hearts were bared, souls were intertwined, and a deep love and bond was formed not only between two men, but between two human beings.When Oliver's six weeks were up and the man returned to American soil, Elio was devastated. Contact came to a brief halt, so when a phone call rung through the Perlman's villa that winter, Elio was very excited and relieved to finally hear from his lover.But Oliver's phone call brought unexpected life-altering news. News that changed everything.And although it surely seemed like an abrupt and melancholy stop to their relationship, Elio and Oliver's story hadn't ended-it had only just begun.• • •*My own take on the events following the fireplace scene in Call Me by Your Name; [movie] directed by Luca Guadagnino, [book] written by André Aciman.*[© visionsofcharmiee 2019]





	1. Chapter one

_I have some news._

_N-News?_

A pause.

"Oh you're getting married, I suppose?"

My voice held a neutral, even slightly mocking tone to it as I spoke to Oliver on the home phone that sat on the wooden table in the large main hallway of my family's old villa. It was December and moderately snowing outside, the open Italian property blanketed in white. A few months had torturously passed since the love of my life, Oliver, had left my and my family's company and went back to America.

I knew Oliver had only had six weeks with us—but it didn't make things any easier. In fact, I feel like having a departing time set in stone had just hurt all the more. I had wanted to get lost in time with Oliver, to feel like we were in our own world where we were accepted, where we would have no time limit on us and our immense love. But in reality, my mind had been a mental clock, a mental countdown from the moment we decided to push past whatever hesitations and tentativeness that was existing between us before and after our first kiss on Monet's berm; the second our walls had gone down, I had been counting down each day, hour, minute, and second until Oliver was to leave me. It was inevitable, both my mental clock and Oliver's departure.

Now, hearing his deep, velvety voice over the phone was relieving and suffocating at the same time. A reminder that he was gone; but a reminder that he was still there in some way. Though, I hadn't recovered from him leaving, and the pain had very slowly dulled into an ache over the weeks that passed that I had rather just got used to instead of futilely trying to force it away somehow. It was no use. There would always be a fist-sized gaping hole where my heart should reside but won't. My heart went wherever Oliver was. It wasn't mine to keep the moment I realized that this person is my absolute everything. My soulmate and my first and only love.

Silence stretched momentarily over the phone after my initial question. My palm holding the phone to my ear felt a bit slippery with sweat. I detested the immediate, abrupt constricting of my stomach, my heart palpitating in response to the dread I suddenly felt. Something was up. Something was going to be said—something that I wouldn't like at all.

Another bout of silence, then Oliver's voice. It was quiet. "I might be getting married next spring, yeah." Oliver murmured, his voice confirming one of my worst fears and settling for more careful if anything. It held apology, even.

My whole world instantly stopped and shifted on its axis. The tight feeling in my gut spread to my chest. It abruptly became very hard to breathe properly, though I tried concealing it as best as possible.

I stared out into the blue hued hallway, then to my lap where the main portion of the telephone rested on it. My fingers squeezed and gripped painfully onto the square shaped device, trying to hold onto something so I could anchor myself back to Earth, back to the villa.

I pursed my lips, eyes flickering to nowhere in particular. I felt cold. Numb. In disbelief. My mind was reeling yet silent.

I swallowed, then, "You never said anything." I couldn't think of anything else but that. My voice almost didn't sound like my own. It certainly felt like I was in a very punishing nightmare, and I didn't know how to get the hell out.

_Oliver has someone._   
_Oliver has someone._   
_Oliver has someone._

_And it isn't you._

"It's been...on and off, for a couple of years." Oliver said tenatively. He too, sounded a bit off.

I sucked in a big, silent breath. Massive waves of hurt washed over me, engulfing me and traveling more so to my physical heart, which almost ceased to beat.

I shrugged, despite not being able to see him. After another brief moment of silence, I responded and carefully tried to even out my voice. But even I knew I sounded dead inside. He might as well have killed me right then and there, for the pain was so great and I didn't want to feel anything.

"That's wonderful news." I said flatly, but with artificial enthusiasm at the same time. I concentrated on breathing, trying not to have a breakdown right then and there on the phone.

"Do you mind?" Oliver asked suddenly.

My head snapped up, and I was overcome with incredulity. Do I mind? Do I _mind_?

But before I could spit out a response to Oliver, the line clicked and my father and mother's voices could be heard clearly on the line, their voices light and happy, knowing now that it was their favorite student talking.

My family had come to love Oliver. It had been blatantly obvious. Just like my love for him eventually as well. The same afternoon after Oliver left, my father and I had had a talk in his study that overall covered the fact that Samuel, or Sammy, knew of Oliver and I's friendship, or "maybe more than a friendship". He had known, and he had been one-hundred percent fine with it. I had never been so grateful in my life for my parents being accepting of my bisexuality.

My mother had come to her own conclusions as well, but just as my father, had no qualms about it and was nothing less than supporting and loving.

I took the phone away from my ear, letting it rest on my right shoulder briefly as my parents still spoke to Oliver. At the moment, I was slowly grateful they had cut Oliver and I's conversation where it was at, for I'm not sure what I would have said to him. What _could_ I say to him?

_Do I mind, Oliver? Oh, no, not at all. I am perfectly okay with you marrying someone else when you were just with me a few short months ago that simultaneously felt like mere minutes. I am perfectly okay with you, the love of my life, marrying someone else that isn't me. Was the time, the love, the things we shared, all in vain? Does that person know you like I know you? Do they know that when you smile, it radiates like the sun, and that you get crinkles in the corners of your bright blue eyes? Do they know the hard planes of your chest, the fine dusting of curls there, how they feel between the soft skin of their fingers and that you like them gently tugged? Do they know that you love soft boiled eggs, despite not knowing at first how to open them correctly, and that you love fresh apricot juice? Do they know that you had already given your heart to me, and in exchange received mine? Do they know anything, as where I know everything?_

When Oliver and I's lines soon connect once again, we talk for only a few more short minutes. Minutes that surely counted down to some sort of finality. It felt like a good-bye all over again, but this time the pain was worse tenfold and felt more official. I can hardly remember what I was saying. Something about my parents knowing about him and I, something about Oliver's father saying he would've carted Oliver off to a _correctional's facility_ if he ever found out and that I was lucky for my parents.

But the sudden last words exchanged between us I'll remember forever.

"Elio." I whispered after we went deathly silent again.

"Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio..." I breathed.

A sucked in gush of air. "...Oliver."

Then, "I remember everything."


	2. Chapter two

Sleep. 

That's all I wanted to do after I cried my eyes out in front of the fireplace. It was one of those heart wrenching cries that make your nose completely stuffed and your hearing muffled. The type that overwhelms you with anguish and even confusion. My chest still felt tight.

I didn't want to eat, didn't want to necessarily converse with my mother or Mafalda. I just wanted to sleep and forget about the conversation I just had. The conversation that I'm 100% sure would have ripped my heart out if it had still been there. My heart left when Oliver did; he took it with him.

Mama had called my name as I was crying, and there wasn't any way I could hide my tears unfortunately. I'm not quite sure why I wanted to hide though. My parents and I are close. Maybe it's because I felt ashamed that it surely looked like I was played by the man I love more than myself. I looked like a fool. 

As soon as she saw even a sliver of my profile, she rushed to me, knelt down to my height, and hugged me tightly. Her face held the utmost sympathy and care. Luckily, mama instantly knew what was wrong, and simply let me sink into her loving and consoling embrace. My tears resumed, perhaps even harder this time.

I could feel Mafalda's eyes on us, and I had a feeling even she knew that the reason for my hurt had to do with Oliver.

"Piccino," Mama murmured. "It's going to be alright. Your papa and I weren't expecting the news either. We thought...well, we thought things were different. We knew it wasn't going to be easy seeing him again right away after he left, but this threw us as well. Baby, we know how much you're hurting right now. We know you love him. So, so much. Even if you never outright confirmed anything, we knew because it's the way you always looked at him. You looked at him like he created and held the sun, moon, and stars."

Mama's words caused the tears to rush down faster.

"But you know, my love, there's a reason for everything. And maybe you won't find out the answer right away, but you will. Eventually. And the hurt you're feeling right now and embracing just like papa said, will subside. It's all about timing. Things will work out."

I could see all of mama's reasoning. She'll be right, most likely. But for now, all I wanted to do was scream and cry for the love I lost.

•••

I was ultimately excused from dinner. As soon as papa walked through the doorway with a solemn look on his face, I could tell he knew everything. Mama told him that I wasn't feeling well and that I wanted to go up to my room and sleep things off, which was correct. Papa had simply nodded and hugged me tightly once I stood with mama and walked up to him. He had ruffled my hair gently and then let me go without further questioning, both of my parents eyes following me leave the room. I knew mama and papa were going to discuss things and let Mafalda and Anchise know as well. They deserved to know.

As soon as I walked into my room and let the door shut behind me, I simply stood in the middle of it. I observed everything, from the sheets on my bed to the tall dresser that held my clothes—and thought of him. Everything reminded me of him, even the smallest irrelevant things. I thought of how just a few months ago, we were making love intensely on my bed and indulging in each other in every sense. I remembered everything, just as he had breathed to me those very words.

I could feel my face crumple again and my bottom lip wobble. I bit it harshly to stifle my abrupt cry and simply sunk to the floor. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. At all.

I started to sob once again, but this time I crawled over to my dresser and ripped open the doors. I stood on my knees, reaching and quickly rifling through the few shirts hanging on hangers. Through blurry vision, I found purchase a moment later at the very end of the pole. Billowy.

I swiftly yet gently took Billowy off its hanger, and then once again sunk to the floor, cradling the only physical thing Oliver left behind with me. This shirt and my memories of him, of us.

I nuzzled my nose into the shirt, inhaling the fading scent and trying to calm myself. I'm not sure how long I sat on the wooden floorboards crying, but eventually I could feel a headache coming on and exhaustion seep in. I could see it was dark outside by the time I stood with the shirt still tightly clutched in my hand. I set Billowy gently down on my bed near my pillow and stripped out of my formal-ish clothes. I brushed my teeth, splashed cold water on my face, and skipped a shower for the night. I just wanted to sleep.

When I was all wrapped up and settled in my thick blankets with Billowy nestled against my cheek and hands, my last thoughts before darkness engulfed me was my Ollie's face, his shining blue eyes telling me three words that we never got to officially exchange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had an off day that eventually led to me crying tonight multiple times which oddly triggered some writing. Will try to post again soon. xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> Hi loves. 👋🏻 This is my first attempt at posting on this site, but not my first time writing. I actually had a Wattpad account where I started writing originally. I had 20+ works that I put much dedication and time into, but then Wattpad decided to be a fucking cunt and they deleted my account. It was partially my fault, but either way I was naive about some things and otherwise completely devastated. I restarted my account but unfortunately lost the passion to write. I wonder now if posting on this site will inspire me again somehow. Let's see what happens with this. I have no real plot as of right now, so I'll probably take the time soon and try to conjure something.
> 
> My instagram fan accounts are @2014stinn, @visionsofcharmiee, @nycchalamet, @postytheking, and @hearteyeshammer. ✨


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